


Wine & Wang(s)

by Flenser



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Armin in a wedding dress, Capture the Flag, Drinking, Hanji being awesome, Levi being an unscrupulous ass, Levi in a grumpy old fart funk, M/M, Phone Sex, Rivarmin Fest, Wine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1465564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flenser/pseuds/Flenser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Armin-centric prompts taken on Tumblr.</p><p>1 - Levi/Armin phone sex.  Armin drinks a little too much at Annie's bachelorette party and hijinks ensue.</p><p>2 - Levi/Armin silliness.  Levi takes Hanji up on a game of Capture the Flag, with interesting results.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Levi/Armin - Phone Sex

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s wrong?”

Armin sighed, fiddling with a lock of his hair and cursed his boyfriend’s ability to pick up on his mood through a single word. He’d called him because he missed him, needed to hear his voice and explaining his present misery wasn’t conducive to that desire.

“Nothing. Everything,” he admitted after a moment. “I just wish you were here.”

“I’m sorry,” Levi apologized without needing to, because they’d already been over it a hundred times, with the same inevitable outcome. “You know I’d be there if I could.”

“I do, it’s just - I miss you.”

“How’s Eren?”

Armin snorted. Levi could be affectionate when he wanted to be, but never over the phone. There was something impersonal about it that the man had once declared he didn’t like, something having to do with business and constantly being on the phone for it, likening any kind of personal interaction on the devices to transactions. Armin hadn’t understood it at the time and still didn’t, being the little love-sponge that he was, but it was one of the little idiosyncrasies he’d grown to at least tolerate with (mostly) good grace ever since they started seeing one another several months ago. Honestly, he really wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he dialed Levi’s number.

“He’s fine,” Armin told him, ducking behind the pavilion tent to avoid being an obstacle to the various vendors bustling to and fro. “Eerily calm. I think he’s saving it all up for the bachelor party tonight.”

“Shit. That moron’s going to be hanging from the chandelier. I hope you have a game plan.”

“Don’t need one. I’m with the girls tonight - Mikasa’s best man, now.”

“What?” Levi’s confusion was palpable.

“You know how Bert’s mother was sick?” Armin asked.

“Yeah. Oh, fuck,” Levi muttered as he did the math. Armin was glad he didn’t have to say it; having no family left made talking about death rather unsavory for him. “How is he?”

“Mostly numb, I think. He’s had a long time to get used to it. He left late last night with Reiner. We’re going to do some kind of memorial thing with them later on back home.”

“Fuckin’ shame.”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re filling in as a bridesmaid?” Levi asked, amusement evident in his voice.

“Maid of honor, actually. Annie only had Bert and Reiner in her party, so as the next gayest thing…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, brat. You’re _much_ gayer than they are.”

Armin laughed at his boyfriend’s uncharacteristically clever joke. “Shut up,” he chided with a roll of his eyes.

“Is there a dress?”

“What? No! Bert and Reiner were going to wear _suits_ , just like I’m going to.”

“Too bad.” Levi actually sounded disappointed.

“Pervert.”

“It’s not my fault your legs are fuckable. Hey, I have to go. I’m supposed to be in a meeting right now. Call me in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Armin breathed, red-faced and flustered by the compliment. “I love you.”

“You, too. Have fun, kid.” Levi hung up.

Armin stared at his phone for a moment before pocketing it, marveling at how Levi could manage to express his feelings without actually doing it at all.

 

****************

 

Annie’s bachelorette party didn’t go as planned.

Armin had wanted to remain sober, so he could corral the drunken girls as necessary, but about halfway through the night a giggling Sasha pressed a glass of wine into his hands and declared it outright _offensive_ that they were at a vineyard and Armin hadn’t sampled its wares. Feeling a little frustrated over his conversation with Levi and more than a little ashamed that he was being such a party pooper at his friend’s last great hurrah as a singleton, he’d downed it, appreciating the cool, fruity tang as it flooded his mouth, then quickly asked for another. Sasha refilled him with a manic grin, and Armin couldn’t help but grin back.

Three glasses later (or was it four?) and they were all back in Annie’s suite, cooing over the black and white Vera Wang hanging in the wardrobe. Someone said it was from the spring collection, and while Armin thought it looked kind of goth-y, he also thought it suited Annie’s cool beauty perfectly.

“Put it on,” Christa demanded, eyes large and luminous as she gazed adoringly at the gown.

“Idiot,” Mina snapped uncharitably. She was a rude drunk. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before her wedding day?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes,” Armin told her. He was warm and fuzzy and snuggled up comfortably against Christa on the bed, much to Ymir’s annoyance. Armin never understood that girl: despite being out since age sixteen and with a few boyfriends under his belt, Ymir still tended to lord over him whenever they were together. His buzzed brain entertained the idea that it might have been because he and Christa looked so much alike. He snorted - Armin Arlert causing a gold star lesbian a tiny crisis. Of all the things.

“You can try it on, if you want,” Annie offered with a shrug. “I don’t care.”

“Oh, I _couldn’t_ ,” Christa breathed, though every bit of her dreamy expression showed how very much she wanted to. “It’d never fit. Armin, you do it.”

“No way,” Armin drawled with a languid stretch and flopped down on his back. His shirt rode up over his belly but he couldn’t be bothered to fix it. God, Annie’s bed was comfortable. Was the one in his room as comfortable? He couldn’t remember. “You’re closer in size than I am.”

“Yeah, but you’re taller. You’d look so nice.”

“C’mon, Arlert,” Ymir cajoled and poked him in the exposed part of his belly. “As the token gay it’s your duty to provide this shindig with a drag show.”

Armin swatted Ymir’s hand away and yanked down his shirt. “Not all gays do drag, you big, creepy lesbo. Eff off.”

“ _Please_ , Armin?” Christa begged, turning her large blue eyes on him. “I bet Levi would like it.”

Armin stared at her, something niggling at the back of his mind about Levi. Once he started drinking he’d managed to forget all about his boyfriend and his frustratingly business-like phone call, but now it was coming back to him and dragging his mood down with it. All he’d wanted was a bit of warmth from his phone-cold boyfriend and what he’d gotten instead was a crass comment about the fuckability of his legs in a dress and the vocal equivalent of a handshake. _Levi would like it_. Fuck Levi and what he would like. If he wanted to see Armin in a dress so badly he could at least tell Armin he loved him from a thousand miles away.

Armin fixed his gaze on the wedding gown and sat up, mind suddenly clear despite the alcohol. ”You’re right, Christa,” he began slowly. “Levi _would_ like it.” And he wouldn’t get to see it unless certain criteria were met.

"Fuck yeah!" Christa cheered.

Mina knocked back the last of her wine and reached her glass out to Sasha. ”Finally,” she grumped as the giggling girl overfilled her glass. She shook the excess from her hand and fixed Annie with an irritated gaze. “No offense, Annie, but your boyfriends planned a pretty lame party.”

Annie simply shrugged and reached for her gown.

 

****************

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t have guessed there was a dick under that dress.”

Armin snorted, teetering unsteadily in a pair of Sasha’s heels and under the effects of more wine and probably the chemicals in the half can of hairspray used to hold his hair in a mass of curls. His eyelashes stuck together and he reached up to pry them apart with his fingers, but Christa swatted his hand away with a _tsk_. Makeup wasn’t originally part of the plan but somewhere between the last bottle of Sauvignon blanc and Nicki Minaj’s sick rhymes pounding through the en suite surround sound Annie had decided he’d be the perfect test subject for her look the next day, and anyway, how ridiculous would it be to go to the length of putting him in a wedding gown only to half-ass it? _So_ ridiculous.

“Pictures,” he demanded, pointing to his phone. He didn’t trust himself to stay upright without ruining the dress any longer than he had to. “Then we’re getting me out of this thing.”

“Wait!” Sasha cried. “The garter!”

Armin nearly lost his balance as a lacy loop of fabric grazed his ear.

Christa somehow managed to snatch it out of the air with a triumphant whoop. “Got it!” she trilled and Ymir’s eyes practically bugged out of her head as her girlfriend dropped to her knees and crawled under Armin’s skirts. She prodded his ankle until he flung an arm out to support himself on Annie’s shoulder so she could tug his foot out of one of the heels and drag the garter up his leg to mid-thigh. Christa guided his foot back into the shoe, then scooted back out, plopping her ass on the carpet to gaze up at him in awe.

“Do you shave or wax?” the girl asked earnestly.

“Wax,” Armin replied without thinking.

“So _smooth_.”

“Oh, my god, Arlert. Could you _get_ any gayer?” Ymir cackled.

Armin flushed and glared at the woman as best he could through the spider-sticky mascara of his lashes while trying not to lose his balance. Heels were misery. Makeup was misery. _He_ was misery. “Fuck off, Grizzly Adams.”

“Aw, I made Barbie mad.”

“Pictures!” Christa sang with a clap of her hands while Sasha popped a bottle of sparkling wine.

 

****************

 

Armin flopped on his bed, dizzy, flushed and overwarm. His stiff hair gave an unsavory crunch as the back of his head hit the mattress and he frowned. He’d have to wash his hair _so much_ the next morning, but it was _so worth it_ to see Levi’s reaction.

Levi.

Oh. _Fuck_.

Armin fished his phone out of his pants pocket and swiped his thumb across the screen to pull up his boyfriend’s number.

“Hey, brat,” Levi greeted after only two rings. Was he waiting? Maybe he was waiting. Armin would be waiting.

“Hiiiiiii,” Armin sighed, smiling.

Levi barked a short laugh. “How much did you drink?”

Again, with the one-word thing. Armin rolled his eyes at the ceiling and huffed. “One. No, two.”

“Glasses?” the man asked skeptically.

“Bottles.”

“Christ.”

“Levi,” Armin breathed. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I do.”

“Tell me.”

“I do all the time, don’t I?” Levi replied mildly.

“ _No_ ,” Armin whined. Why didn’t he understand? Why didn’t he _see_?

“No?”

“Yes.”

“Armin, you’re not making s-”

“Shhh,” Armin held up his hand to silence a Levi who wasn’t there. A Levi who should have been there. A Levi who was over a thousand miles away in his bed without him and wouldn’t tell him he loved him over the fucking phone. “Sh. Sh. _No_. Right now.”

“Armin, you have a big day tomorrow. You should get some sleep.”

Armin squirmed, frustrated at his boyfriend’s inability to just _comprehend_. “I wore Annie’s dress,” he blurted.

There was a pause as Levi apparently mulled this over. Armin hoped he was mulling _hard_.

“Annie’s dress? Annie’s _wedding dress_?”

“Yessssssss,” Armin purred.

“And you’re _still alive_?”

Armin pulled the phone from his ear and scowled at it. “It was her idea,” he said. Stupid Levi. Annie was his _friend_. When there was no reply Armin blinked and pressed the phone to his ear again.

“…you there?” came Levi’s deep voice. His deep, sexy voice.

“I’m here.”

“God damn it, Armin. Don’t disappear like that,” Levi scolded in his deep, smooth, sexy voice. “I thought you passed out.”

“Don’t be mad,” Armin whimpered. The deep, smooth, warm, sexy voice sounded mad. He felt like crying.

“I’m not mad. I just want you to be safe.”

Armin shook his head and heaved a sigh, closing his eyes. “It felt nice.”

“What did?”

“The _dress_ ,” he groaned plaintively. “It felt like your voice.” His body flushed as he recalled the sensation of the cool satin gliding over his skin like Levi’s words, the smooth texture under his fingertips. He brought his free hand up under his shirt to stroke at his belly, wondering if his skin was anywhere near as soft.

“I wish I could have seen it,” Levi murmured.

Armin hummed, fingers tracing along the waistband of his jeans and paused momentarily to pop the button. “There might be pho-to-graph-ic ev-i-dence,” he giggled out, then bit back a sigh as he dipped his fingers low enough to graze the small rise at the base of his quickly hardening cock. No, not his belly, he thought - his belly wasn’t as soft as Vera Wang, but maybe his cock was. Wang was.

“You little shit. Are you touching yourself?”

“Maybe.” He wasn’t. He wanted to _so badly_ , but not yet. “I want you.”

“Armin, I’m not doing this.”

“Doing what?” He trailed his fingers up his chest to pinch lightly at a nipple, crying out softly.

There was a sharp intake of breath in his ear. “You know I -”

Armin didn’t hear whatever Levi said next, instead blearily pulling up his phone’s photo album to send him the raciest of the photos Sasha took that night: Armin bent over at the waist, looking shyly over his shoulder with the skirt of the dress hiked up around his hip while adjusting the garter. His exposed leg looked shapely, long and pale, and Armin knew the photo would touch practically every kink his boyfriend had. After three attempts he managed to press “send” and put the phone back to his ear in time to hear Levi’s incoming text tone.

“ _Fuck_ ,” the man breathed after a moment.

Armin grinned, unzipping his jeans and wriggling them down past his hips. His hand was poised over his freed cock, awaiting the signal.

“Describe it,” Levi growled, low and commanding, and Armin wrapped his fingers around his hot, hard length with a relieved sigh.

“I didn’t like it at first,” Armin admitted, squirming into his own touch. “Then it started to feel nice. _Really_ nice. I looked sexy and felt sexy and the fabric was so cool and smooth against my skin.”

Levi’s breaths were harsh and loud in Armin’s ear, and he imagined his photo displayed on the man’s screen, audio set to speakerphone and his hands down his pants. He squeezed his cock a little tighter on the upstroke and thumbed at the tip, reveling in the unexpected shudder caused by pressing the ball of his thumb into the slit and smearing the surprising amount of pre-come there.

“Keep going,” Levi ground out.

Armin smiled a little in triumph and tossed his head against the coverlet, fingers gliding up and down his shaft in short, quick strokes. “I got a little hard,” he breathed, “wearing it. Imagining you fucking me in it. Do you want to fuck me in it?”

“Yes, _fuck_ ,” Levi hissed into Armin’s ear. “ _Fuck_.”

Armin’s leg spasmed as a particularly pleasurable twist of his hand rocked his spine, and he began to feel the familiar heat trickling to settle between his legs. “Tell me,” he demanded breathlessly. “Tell me how you’d fuck me.”

“I’d bend you over and lick you open,” Levi growled without hesitation.

“ _Yes_.”

“You’d put up a fight because you wouldn’t want to get your precious dress dirty, but you’re a greedy little shit and would give up as soon as you felt my tongue in your ass.”

Armin moaned loudly, quickening the pace of his hand over his cock. Between the wine and the satin and Levi’s sexy ragged voice he was already _so close_.

“It doesn’t take long to get you ready,” Levi panted lowly, “because you’re so fuckin’ hot for it, hot for my cock. You beg for it, and I’m such a weak piece of shit I can’t resist you. I fuckin’…fuckin’ ram it into you and you scream _so nicely_ -”

Armin stiffened, then arched his back off the bed with a wail, hand still working his cock as he came, and came, Levi’s wrecked voice fading off into the staticky noise of his blood rushing in his ears.

 

****************

 

Armin’s phone alarm went off far too early the next morning, beeping harshly in time with the pounding in his head. Why did he drink so much last night? Wine hangovers were the _worst_. Eyes closed, he clumsily groped for his phone among the blankets, realizing with a start that the coverlet was still smooth, undisturbed by sleep. He sat up and immediately looked at his lap, took in his shameful state of undress and the come stains on his shirt. His memories of the night were hazy at best, vague recollections of letting the girls stuff him into Annie’s wedding dress and taking pictures, thinking Levi would like them, and Levi -

Levi.

Oh. _Fuck_.

Armin snatched the phone up off the bed and quickly thumbed to his call log, his worst fear realized as he saw the embarrassing evidence at what was probably the drunkest, neediest phone call he had ever made in his life. His eyes fell to the unread text notifications and, heart in his throat, prepared for the worst as he tapped the screen.

Four texts, all from Levi, and sent last night.

_Today 1:23 AM - Drink a lot of water, you dumb shit, or so help me god I’ll fly out there just to spank your manipulative ass._

_Today 1:45 AM - Garter size small?_

_Today 1:52 AM - I love you._

_Today 1:53 AM - Don’t fucking get smug about it or I’m never doing it again._

Armin heaved a sigh of relief, grinning and clutching the phone to his chest like a lifeline, the pounding at his temples overwhelmed by the pounding of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, what is characterization.


	2. Levi/Armin - Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Quiet prompt from Rivarmin Fest.
> 
> Levi and Hanji go head-to-head in a game of Capture the Flag, with interesting results.

Levi wasn’t a betting man, but Capture the Flag was, at its core, an excellent way of gauging his new squad’s mettle and, if asked, that’s exactly what Levi would say. He _definitely_ wouldn’t say it had anything to do with Hanji beating him at cards the other night, and that it _most certainly_ had nothing to do with his childish retaliatory bet on a war game. It had _even less_ to do with the added fuck-you of Hanji choosing his team for him, _because every member of Levi Squad was elite, right?_ Elite and dumb and cocky enough to not give a shit about Levi’s chapped ass. Walls, he wanted to punch Hanji in the face.

They were camped in the trees to the south of a small clearing where their bright red flag fluttered lightly in the breeze. Levi chose the spot for its relative position on the high ground and the thick undergrowth below, concealing himself, Armin and Eren while Connie and Ymir kept watch in the canopy. Hanji’s usual tactics favored the defensive, so Levi figured she’d change it up for play time. He went along with it, ordering his team at silent stand-by, watching and waiting. It was a trap - _she_ knew it was a trap, and Levi _knew_ she knew, because for as crazy as she was she wasn’t fucking _stupid_ \- but he was faster, and stronger, and while the knuckleheads comprising his team engaged themselves with protecting their flag he’d steal off and find Hanji’s and rub it in her shitty fucking face. Easy. Quick. In and out. Done. Except -

Except it had been two hours already and there was no sign of Hanji or her team.

Levi’s knees ached and his trousers were filthy from crouching for so long on the forest floor. Eren fidgeted restlessly beside him, obviously bored and distracted. If Levi had to tell him _one more time_ to snap to, he’d make the brat scrub every toilet at headquarters twice. With a toothbrush. Armin, predictably, took his orders to heart and remained completely still and silent at Levi’s other side. Walls knew what the other two chucklefucks were up to in the trees, but Levi was willing to bet it wasn’t anything they were told. At least he had _one_ reliable member on his team.

Levi sighed and shifted his weight to one knee, wincing at the pop the joint made. “What the fuck’s taking them so long?” he grumbled to no one in particular. “I could get pregnant and pinch out a shit-baby quicker than this.”

A loud snort sounded to Levi’s right and he whipped his head around, at his limit and ready to flay Eren alive. Whatever insult he had prepared died instantly on his lips, however, once he was surprisingly met with Armin’s cherubically grinning visage. What the everliving fuck? Since when could that kid tell the difference between a joke and his own asshole? Under any other circumstance Levi might have been smug about getting the famously humorless Armin Arlert to laugh, especially when no one else found any of his jokes particularly funny, but not when his honor was dubiously at stake.

Levi huffed and rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to insist on snorting in the dirt, I’m sure we can find you some slop and a shithole to wallow in when we get back to camp.”

Armin’s eyes went wide with mirth as he very poorly suppressed a high-pitched squeal.

Levi heard the quiet whir and clang of gear in the distance and frantically threw his hand out to clap over Armin’s mouth. The kid’s lips spluttered against his palm, but instead of muffling the noise, the brat somehow got _louder_. “Fucking shit, Arlert,” he hissed. “Get it together.” He was not going to lose to Hanji again because blondie here had an affinity for poop jokes, and was that _saliva_ on his hand? Fucking _gross_.

“Too late,” Eren groaned. “Once he gets the giggles it’s impossible to stop him.”

Levi gaped at him. The sounds of the gear were getting louder and clearer, and Levi turned his pleading eyes to Armin’s red face. “I swear to fucking... _whatever_ , Armin, if you shut the fuck up right now I’ll fill you up with so many shit jokes later your eyes will turn brown.”

Armin’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head and he wrenched himself from Levi’s grasp to draw in a gasping breath. A loud, bell-like peal of laughter erupted from his lips and rang among the trees, and Levi might have thought it charming if it wasn’t for the fact that he was _entirely fucked_.

“It was a pleasure serving under you, sir,” Eren deadpanned as the sounds of Levi’s impending doom - both Armin _and_ Hanji’s team - grew ever louder. 

Levi shot Eren a furious glare. “Latrine duty for a week,” he snapped.

“What the fuck did _I_ do?”

They were closing in on him fast. Levi counted two to the east, one to the south and two more to the north. The singleton was most assuredly Hanji ready to swoop in for the kill and claim victory, much like Levi had planned for himself, but he’d lost the one thing working in his favor: the element of surprise.

Surprise.

 _Surprise_.

“ _Fuck me_ ,” Levi muttered, and before he could consider the ramifications, he reached out and gripped the hysterically laughing Armin on both sides of his head to mash their lips together. The kid’s lips were wet and soft, and as kisses went, it was messy and rough. Levi idly thought he’d had better, but the action worked as intended: Armin Arlert was as silent as the grave.

“Armin,” Eren breathed behind him. He had the nerve to sound _disappointed_.

“Olly olly oxen free!” Hanji sang, dangling Levi’s flag above their heads as she hung upside down from a branch. “Oh ho, but I see the game’s changed! Playing a little tonsil hockey, eh, Levi?”

Levi broke away from Armin like he was made of titan puke and glared up at Hanji with as much venom as he could muster. “Die shitting,” he spat, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. For some weird reason the kid tasted like spun sugar. The fuck?

Hanji cackled in maniacal glee, righting herself in preparation of absconding with her prize. “Speaking of dying, Arlert there looks like he could use a little _mouth-to-mouth_.”

Levi felt a brief pang of guilt when he glanced at the stiff and red-faced boy, currently the object of Eren’s jealous attentions. Judging by his reaction, he probably stole the little marshmallow’s first kiss, and while there was a small level of pride to be had by that, Levi felt he should _maybe_ apologize. “Get fucked,” is what he said instead, fixing Hanji with another glare. It was _her_ fault, anyway.

“I’ll hold,” Hanji said with a wave of her hand, then grinned conspiratorially. “Double or nothing?”

Levi thought for a moment. He really shouldn’t. He wasn’t a betting man. Not _really_.

“Fugitive?”

“Give you a five minute head start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to use the phrase "crazy, four-eyed fuck" but I couldn't fit it in. Boo to lost opportunities.


End file.
